


All that Shimmers is not innocent

by Dolavine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Heavy Angst, Kissing, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9873464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolavine/pseuds/Dolavine
Summary: While on a hunt Sam and Dean find a strange unidentified vial of shimmering dust, they set out to solve the mystery of how it’s involved in the case of several dead men. Their research ends up turning into a lustful display of abandoned desire and realized yearning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For [ spn_reversebang 2016 ](http://spn-reversebang.livejournal.com/) Thanks to selecasharp for being awesome and creating such inspiring art. [Art Link ](http://teashopmuses.livejournal.com/99981.html)
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://s14.photobucket.com/user/Dolavine/media/banner%20chair-1_zpsbjyxbdso.jpg.html)  
> 

They haven’t had a case in over two weeks; therefore, Sam and Dean have been holing up in the Lake View Motel, where incidentally there is no lake and thus no view of a lake. They’ve had lots of lazy days, which means lots of pent-up anxiety while waiting for their next case. 

Sam’s doing his daily perusal of the internet’s top stories while Dean polishes off the last of the six-pack and finishes up the cold pizza from dinner last night. Suddenly Sam looks over at him. “I think I found something,” he pipes up, grabbing the laptop and heading toward Dean.

“Two-headed babies from Chernobyl again?” Dean quips as Sam settles in next to him on the sofa.

“No,” Sam says, disgusted, before turning the laptop towards Dean. “Three bizarre deaths by spontaneous combustion in Blairsville, Pennsylvania.”

Dean reads the article. “Demons?” 

“Maybe.” Sam takes the laptop back. “Could be a witch too.”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Dean’s off of the sofa and grabbing his duffel bag from the floor before Sam can even react. “Hit the road and check it out!” Dean sniffs a pair of jeans before stuffing them into his bag. 

They pack up and check out in fifteen minutes flat. 

Sam refuels the car while Dean hits the restrooms before they head out toward the open road. Sam’s done before Dean gets back, so he waits in the car for a few minutes until Dean opens the door and throws a brown bag at him before climbing in.

“Snacks,” he declares, grinning wide, and grabs the bag back. He pulls out a juice that he gives to Sam and a big bottle of Coke that he puts it in the cup holder before reaching inside again to take out two little plastic-wrapped packages. He hands one to Sam and sets the other on the seat next to himself. 

Sam looks around with a confused expression, a sugary snack cake balanced on his palm. “For me?”

“Of course,” Dean says, pulling out a bag of chips and a bag of assorted candy.

“Dean?” Sam looks at it like it’s a foreign object. “Um…”

“Oh, you big health freak.” Dean yanks out a bag of veggie straws and takes back the cake. “I wouldn’t waste a good cream-filled dream cake on you.” He strokes the snack lovingly.

“Jerk,” Sam mutters, making a face at him before grabbing his veggie straws.

Dean opens one of the cakes, waving it at Sam. “Delicious golden dream cake…” He waggles his eyebrows as he pushes his tongue right into the cream-filled hole. “Mmmmmmm...” he moans lasciviously as he closes his lips around the yellow oval.

Sam bites his lower lip as he watches the seductive show. “Jesus, Dean, do you have to be such an ass about eating that sugar-and-preservative-laden baked good of _death_?” He tries to sound exasperated, even as his stomach flutters and his breath hitches in his chest as he continues to watch the shameless display. 

“Mmmhumf,” Dean makes a confirming noise, his cheeks full. He’s making crude noises as he chews and swallows, his tongue slipping out to clean the cream that has oozed out from his full mouth.

“Aaaargh,” Sam groans and tries not to watch. But he can’t help it; his cock is twitching as he fantasizes about those lips working over his dick. “Whatever,” he mumbles and forces himself to concentrate on his own veggie straws as a distraction.

////////////

The next four hours are spent with classic rock, Dean munching potato chips, Sam researching the case, and one quick stop at a roadside attraction. 

…Okay, it was actually the Bee Hive strip club.

“We’re here,” Dean announces as they roll off the exit ramp and into the middle of town. “Do you have an address for the crime scene?” 

“I think we should hit the morgue first and examine what’s left of the bodies,” Sam says, searching for the address of the coroner’s office on his phone.

“FBI suits?” Dean flashes a big grin as he waggles his eyebrows.

“You like cosplay far too much.” Sam shakes his head, feigning disgust. “ _Yes_ , FBI suits.”

They pull into a Gas’n Sip and park. Dean pops the trunk and pulls out the suit bags, saying, “007 in a zip bag.” He shoves one of the bags at Sam with a wink.

They change in the restroom; Dean emerges from his stall first and is fixing his tie when Sam steps out of his stall. Dean looks Sam up and down, at the dark suit framing his brother and his undone tie hanging loosely around his neck. Sam puts a foot up on the sink to tie his shoe and Dean ogles Sam’s ass and how the trousers fit it so perfectly, the smooth rounded cheeks pressed snugly against the fabric.

“Sure you’re not stealing my cakes, Sammy? Because your slacks seem a bit tight around your ass,” he snickers. But he can’t stop watching, even as Sam rolls his eyes at him before switching legs.

“Stop paying so much attention to my ass, pervert.” Sam’s fighting the urge to wiggle his ass flirtatiously, secretly enjoying the fact that Dean’s showing such an interest in it.

“If you’re going to stick your sasquatch ass in my face, I can’t help but notice it,” Dean chuckles. 

“Just help me fix my tie, asshole,” Sam laughs. 

“You need to lean how to do this yourself.” Dean steps behind Sam, presses his chest flush to Sam’s back, and reaches up over Sam’s shoulders to take the tie in hand. He watches himself in the mirror as he makes the right moves and finishes off the knot. Dean’s cock is stirring at the soft shifting of their bodies as they are pressed together, and he wants to spin Sam around and kiss him hard on the mouth. His eyes meet Sam’s in the mirror.

“There, done.” He pats Sam on the shoulders and backs away.

“Thanks.” Sam adjusts the knot, smiling at Dean in the mirror. He had loved how firm and hot Dean’s body had felt against his back, how his arms had wrapped around him in a loose hug, so much that he couldn’t help the way his body had reacted. He’s fighting off the start of an erection. 

Calm down, Sam, he tells himself, and follows Dean to the car.

////////////

At the morgue, Dean climbs out of the Impala, rushes around to get in front of Sam, and opens the door. “I’ll take the lead,” he says, going in ahead of Sam.

“Fine.” Sam takes one giant step around Dean, shouldering ahead of him. “Anything you say, man.” He smirks as he keeps Dean from getting ahead.

“Hey, bitch, stop crowding me.” Dean’s trying with no luck to get in the front. 

Sam steps up to the morgue attendant and flashes his fake I.D. “Agent Jake,” he points at Dean who is standing behind him, “and Agent Isles.” 

“What can I do for you, agents?” The attendant yawns, barely glancing at the badges.

“We’re investigating the three deaths that happened this week.” Sam slides the I.D. back into his pocket as Dean takes a step forward. 

“We’d like to see the bodies,” Dean adds, practically pushing Sam to the side.

“Ah yeah.” The attendant nods and leads them back to the autopsy room. “Not much left of them, more like remains instead of bodies,” he mumbles, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “Need any help?”

“We’ll take it from here,” Dean says, closing the door behind them.

Sam takes the roster from the wall beside the door and opens the first cooler door. “Marks, Charles,” he reads, and moves the sheet to expose an arm, a leg, a hand, and a foot. 

“Holy shit,” Dean exclaims as he grimaces. “Outside of a bombing, I’ve never seen parts so mangled.”

Sam pulls on a pair of latex gloves and examines the remains. “No, I think this _was_ spontaneous combustion, the ends look singed, see?” He opens the second drawer and pulls back the sheet. “And this is all that’s left of William Tucker.” There is just one leg, with the boot still on. Sam points at the ragged stump near where the knee should be. “Look, again with the singed flesh.”

“Nice hiking boot, what a shame.” Dean pokes at it with a pencil. 

Sam opens the last drawer and pulls back the sheet to reveal two thighs. “Says here that this is a John Doe. No discernable marks for identification.” Sam picks up one of the thighs and looks at it. It’s still oozing, slightly. “Pretty gruesome stuff.”

“You like playing the coroner too much, dude.” Dean gives a disgusted look as he glances over the body parts. “I guess the attendant was right, no bodies here.” 

“Don’t be jealous,” Sam says, closing the drawer.

“I’m not jealous.” Dean heads towards the desk and the filing cabinets beyond, then looks back over his shoulder and smirks before finishing, “You can play with all the dead bodies you want, I don’t care.”

“Let’s just look through their personal effects, Dean.” Sam goes to the closet and searches through it for a minute, then pulls out three boxes and sets them on the desk. “Wanna help find something that connects them, other than the fact that they’re dead?”

Dean sits on the edge of the desk, pulls a box towards himself, and starts to rifle through it. “Hey, one more hole punched and this dude gets a free giant banana split at DQ.” He lifts his eyebrow and shoves the punch card into his pocket. Sam gives him a dirty look. “What? He’s never going to use it.”

“Stealing from the dead,” Sam grumbles.

“Hey, better than what we usually do, steal from the living, _Mister Barnaby_.”

“You know I hate that too.” Sam finds an empty vial in one of the boxes. “Hmmm, this might be interesting.” He shows it to Dean and then puts it into his pocket. He continues digging through the box and finds a suspicious business card, stuffed loosely in a half-burnt wallet, then lays it on the desk. Nothing else seems out of place. “You got anything?”

“Maybe.” Dean finds a business card too; he looks at the one Sam put down, comparing. They’re for the same business. “Hey, look in the other box.” He holds out the second business card to show Sam. “Check for another one. There might be another vial too.”

Sam quickly goes through the third box and finds the same card but no more vials. He holds it up. “Bingo.”

“ _Looking for love, wondering about your future? Zelda can help! Certified Wiccan spells, potions, and palm readings. CONTROL YOUR FUTURE! By appointment, 724-555-4761. 175 ½ Main Street_ “

“Let’s check this bitch, I mean witch, out.” Dean shoves all three cards into his pocket and hops off the desk. “I’m pretty sure this smells like a witch thing to me. I mean, what are the odds that all the stiffs would have the same business card?”

////////////

Sam finds the shop by using his phone’s GPS, but when they pull up in front of it, it looks like it’s been closed down, and not just for the day. The front doors are locked and chained together, and when they look in the big store front windows they find they’re shuttered.

They slip around the building and try the back door, which swings open immediately when Sam turns the knob. 

Dean waggles his eyebrows. “Damn, chastity belt on the front door but the back door’s open for action...” He nods his head and gives Sam a cheeky grin, like he just told the best dirty joke ever. 

“Riiiight.” Sam rolls his eyes and steps inside. 

Luckily, the electricity’s still on. Dean switches lights on as they go, figuring that if they couldn’t see in, no one would notice the lights from outside.

The stock room is sparse, just a few things scattered here and there, so they move on into the store itself. “Looks like Zelda bugged out of here pretty quick,” Dean says, hitting the button on the cash register, which flies open. He runs his finger through the empty money slots and clicks his tongue. “Yep, bugged out fast, all right.”

“They aren’t going to leave the money, Dean.” Sam opens up cupboards and looks over the shelves. He finds one remaining box in a closet in the corner and takes it down to find that, besides a lot of crumpled tissue paper, the only thing inside is one small vial, full of something that looks shimmery. Sam takes the one from the morgue out of his pocket and matches them up; they are exactly the same. “Hey, Dean,” he calls as he goes back toward the counter again.

Dean’s looking through a box he found on the floor under the counter. He chuckles as he pulls out a long pink feather and waves it in Sam’s direction. “Hey, look, sex feathers!” He smirks and lifts an eyebrow. “You like to be tickled, Sammy boy?” 

“None of your business, asshole,” Sam scowls at him. “Look what I found.” He holds up the two vials: one empty, one full.

“So what is it?” Dean takes the full one from his hand and examines it. “It’s unmarked.”

“Don’t know, box wasn’t marked either. I’ll try and research it when we get to a motel,” Sam takes it back and puts both vials in his pocket again. He takes one last look around the mostly-empty store. “I’m pretty sure we’ve found all the leads Zelda left behind.”

////////////

They stop at a bar and grill to get a bite to eat and to change back into their comfortable civilian clothes. Dean orders a bacon cheeseburger and fries and spends the meal moaning obscenely over it, while Sam tries to ignore him and focus on his own Greek salad. 

“Really?” Sam asks when Dean grabs the dessert menu. 

“Look, Sammy, a Twinkie Sundae, your favorite! Know how much you love that cream-filled goodness.” Dean holds up the menu and licks his lips libidinously at him.

Sam’s eyes are transfixed on Dean’s mouth, his pulse racing and his respiration audibly faster. He swallows hard and grabs dinner menu so that Dean doesn’t catch him. “Oh look, kale chips! Lemon balsamic, your favorite,” he retorts, shoving it Dean’s face.

Later, when they get in the car, Dean shrugs at Sam and says, “You made me do it,” as Sam wipes at gooey strands of cherry pie in his hair with a napkin.

Sam gives him the finger. Dean snickers and flips the radio on.

“ _—cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise—_ “

Dean gives a devilish grin, points at Sam struggling to clean his hair, and belts out along with the song, “Tastes so good make a grown man cry, sweet cherry piiiiie!”

Sam stares at him with a baffled expression as his brother finishes slaughtering the lyrics. “I’m not licking your beater,” he says finally, smirking as he tosses the napkin out the window.

They head back to a motel they saw as they were driving into town earlier, The Huntingdon Inn, near the exit ramp. Dean checks them in while Sam gets the gear and duffel bags out of the trunk.

“Old-fashioned keys, see?” Dean waves the spare key in Sam’s face. 

“As opposed to what we normally have?” Sam takes the key and grumbles at Dean. “Thirty-four dollars a night and pay-for-use wifi pretty much ensures no electronic keys. I just hope they have decent water pressure. Jerk.”

“Hey, it could be the lap of luxury in there.” Dean puts the key in the slot and turns it. 

The door opens to expose three rusty beige walls and one of cheap panel board, stained shag carpet, and two twin beds, a desk and chair, a TV, a tiny dresser, and a mini-fridge, all jammed into the small room.

“Not too bad,” Dean says, dropping his duffel bag on the floor.

“If you’re into confined spaces.” Sam sets the laptop on the desk and his duffel on the bed closest to it.

“Hey, we sleep in Baby, this is spacious.” Dean drops a pile of books onto a bed and flops onto it after them.

“Yeah, well, while you lounge in the spacious quarters, I’m going to take a shower.” Sam empties out his pockets, setting the full vial carefully on the desk next to the laptop. The empty one he tucks into his duffel, just in case they’ll need it later. “When I’m done, I’ll research whatever this is. You get started with the books, okay?”

“Sure, sure.” Dean’s already flipping through the channels on the television and barely listening to his brother.

The bathroom is the size of a closet, so Sam leaves the door half-open so he won’t feel like he’ll smother in the steam. He turns on the water, letting it get hot while he strips down, then squeezes into the tiny shower stall. The showerhead is even with his eyes, so he has to stoop down just to get his head wet.

“This is going to be fun,” he mutters, and gets to work washing cherry pie out of his hair.

////////////

The sound of rushing water suddenly ceasing catches Dean’s attention. Looking up, he sees the open bathroom door, a soft cloud of steam spilling through it. He leans over a bit to look inside, just making out the soft shadow of his brother’s tall-lean body moving in the tight stall. The steam fills the tiny room, so when Sam steps out of the shower, Dean can’t see him clearly. 

He squints and cautiously moves his head, trying to find a clear line of sight through the opening. Dean’s heart is fluttering; he’s biting his lip, his cock tingling with mild arousal as he tries so hard to catch just a glimpse of Sam’s naked body. His hand absently rubs at his hardening dick and in the back of his mind he knows that this is all kinds of wrong. But he doesn’t care; right now he just doesn’t want to get caught, or Sam might never speak to him again.

The sound of the towel flapping and Sam’s soft sighs as he dries every inch of that body built for sex have Dean’s complete attention. He’s fully hard now, his palm pressing against the sensitive head as he watches the peep show his brother is unwittingly giving him. He’s breathing heavily now; he wants to come, but just as he’s letting himself fall into the fantasy that he’s building, Sam’s voice comes out of the bathroom as the door swings completely open.

“Damn, nothing like showering in a shoebox.” Sam steps out in only a towel, wet tendrils of hair clinging to his long neck.

Dean jumps, pulling his hand back and abandoning his throbbing erection. “Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat as he tries to sound uninterested. The remote is still clutched in his left hand, and the heat of his desire still blazes across his right palm as he refuses to look up at his brother strutting around with only a towel slung around his hipbones.

Sam grabs a flannel, a t-shirt worn so thin it’s practically see-through, and a pair of clean jeans from his duffel. On the desk, the full vial catches his eye. He sets his clothes down, then picks it up and holds it up to the light. “Damn, I wish there had been some kind of markings on the box to let me know what this is,” he murmurs. He grabs his phone and takes a quick picture of the vial to send to the laptop, then sits down in the desk chair. “Maybe, just maybe, I can get a hit on the recognition app.”

“Maybe,” Dean says, trying not to look at Sam’s half-naked body perched on the computer chair, the bare skin of his inner thigh peeking out from under the white cotton towel barely covering him. 

Sam sets up the app and sends the picture over. “Now the waiting game.” He opens up some other pages on herbs and spices that are used in spells and throws Dean a book he brought in from the trunk. “Here, see if there are any spells in here that might cause spontaneous combustion and if they use a dust or fine-ground powder.”

“Fine.” Dean looks at the book Sam tossed him, a thick hardcover book with silver lettering. It’s even thicker than any of the books from the assorted pile that he’d brought in. “Looks like this might take a while, better get comfy.” He sheds his flannel shirt like a second skin and kicks off his boots, then cracks his toes against the stiff-matted shag carpeting. “Ahhhh, comfort.” He slides up on the bed and leans against the headboard to relax while he does the seemingly endless task of researching.

Sam doesn’t even look, otherwise occupied as he looks at page after page and site after site of Wiccan spells and potions. He finally glances over at Dean, who now has his nose buried in the book, his eyes focused intensely, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he worries it and then licks over the red bitten swollen area repeatedly. Sam stares, his throat getting thick as he tries to swallow against the dryness. He licks his lips as he mimics Dean’s motions, thinking about what they might taste like, what Dean’s mouth might feel like against his, and he feels his cock growing with the fantasy. 

When Dean looks up, Sam feels like cowering under the desk. He quickly pushes the towel down between his legs in a meager attempt to hide his growing erection. “Find anything yet?” he manages to croak out. His eyes rove over Dean’s thick bulging biceps before scanning over to his chest and landing on those full muscular pecs with their perky hard nipples pushing through his brother’s tight black cotton tee. He swallows again, this time a bit more audibly than before. 

“I’ll let you know when I do.” Dean looks back down at his book and engulfs himself in the words, trying to fill his brain with boring research and not thoughts of ripping Sam’s towel away and jerking him off.

“Okay…” Sam says shakily and then takes a deep breath while shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

It’s silent for a while, neither looking up from his perspective research tools, both trying so hard to not move out of the zone, until Sam feels a slight chill caressing his bare back and realizes how naked he really is now that his erection has gone down. 

“I think I’m gonna get dressed,” he announces as he grabs his clothes off of the desk, steps back into the closet of a bathroom, and shuts the door completely this time.

Dean slams the book he’s been reading closed and stretches. He goes over to the mini-fridge and takes out a beer that he’d stashed in there from the cooler. He pops the top and takes a long swig, then flops down in the desk chair to look over Sam’s research pages. 

That’s when he sees the vial.

The tiny, approximately two-inch vial containing a shimmering golden-copper dust. It’s calling to him; he can’t take his eyes off of it. He picks it up and moves it around in the light; it glitters as it catches the soft yellow rays of the lamp bulb. He can almost hear it beckoning him to open it and examine it further.

Dean doesn’t feel like he should or could fight it; his fingers twist the tiny cork, loosening it slightly. He looks at the bathroom door like a bad kid getting into something he shouldn’t. Finding it still closed, he continues opening it up.

The cork pops free, and Dean carefully lifts it out. He tilts the glass, looking at the shimmering grains of dust swirling inside, and without thinking about it, he dips his pinky finger in. He checks the bathroom door again to make sure he won’t get caught before cautiously sniffing the golden dust gilding his little digit; it paints his left nostril, making him sneeze and, as a side effect, blow the grains into the air. 

Sam steps out of the bathroom at that exact moment and sees Dean with the open vial. “Dude, what the hell?” He rushes forward to stop him, unknowingly breathing in some of the shimmery cloud. 

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Samantha, it doesn’t smell like anything and doesn’t seem to be lethal. I’m still breathing.” Dean swipes his finger over his thigh and then puts the cork back into the small glass lip. 

“Seriously, Dean, you shouldn’t be putting your fingers into random stuff. I mean what if it’s cursed, what if it mutates you or…” Sam tries to think of what would be the worst thing that could happen to Dean, “…it makes you impotent?” He grins slightly when Dean’s eyes go wide.

“Shut up, it won’t make me impotent.” He chuckles half-heartedly and touches his crotch as he makes a cautious face.

“You don’t know what it will do. This could be the very thing that killed those men and we have no clue what the hell it is yet.” Sam grabs the vial from Dean and buries it in his duffel bag next to the empty one. “Now leave it alone until we figure out what it is, okay?”

“Okay,” Dean says and then whispers under his breath, “bossy.”

“Now get out of my chair.” Sam grabs the back and tilts the chair forward, prompting Dean to get up before he ends up on the floor.

“Okay, okay,” Dean grunts, silently mouthing _bossy_ as he grabs his beer and heads back to his bed and the pile of books on it.

Sam settles down at the laptop again and starts to type; he looks at his fingers and sees that the tips are shimmering as he moves them. He lifts them off of the keyboard and examines them even closer. As he’d thought, they’re covered in the soft golden dust. “Shit,” he mutters.

“Find something?” Dean looks up from the two books he’s trying to decide between.

“Yeah,” Sam holds up his hand. “You infected me with that stuff.”

“Oh stop, you’ll be fine. I’m fine.” Dean looks at the tint still on his pinky finger and streaked across his thigh.

“For now,” Sam says exasperatedly. “Let’s just find out what it is before whatever might happen, happens.”

////////////

It’s been over an hour and neither of them has been able to find a single clue. Dean throws the last book at the foot of the bed and sits up. “Damn, if it’s possible, I have reader’s cramp in my neck.” He roughly rubs at the back of his neck. He looks over at Sam reclining in the chair, finger swirling on the mouse pad as he scrolls through the pages, the blue light of the screen illuminating his face, and Dean sighs softly at that handsome sight. 

Suddenly the room feels like it is a hundred degrees; Dean’s mouth is dry, his palms are sweating, his cock is twitching, and he feels like a teen again with a summer crush. He licks his lips with a dry tongue and swallows the sand gathered at the back of his tight throat. He wants Sam, wants his brother with more fierceness than he ever has had before. More than when he beats off in the shower with Sam’s dirty wash rag, even more than when he purposely switches pillows at a motel that they’ve spent more than one night at, just so he can bury his face in it and inhale Sam’s musky scent while he gets off to the thought of kissing his brother’s mouth or touching his naked body. Dean’s almost ravenous with hunger for Sam and he’s not sure if he can contain himself.

Sam’s suddenly having trouble concentrating. The room feels too small, smaller than it did only a few minutes ago. There’s tension in the air; it feels like a tight band around Sam’s chest and it’s hard to breathe. His mind keeps wandering to Dean, his eyes glancing to the side so he can catch glimpses of him, but it doesn’t seem like enough. His skin is prickling with heat, desire crawling under the surface like a hungry shark. His dick feels sensitive, like he just came and can barely stand to touch it or have his clothes rub against it. His tongue feels fat in his mouth; he’s panting and he can’t seem to stop himself. Closing his eyes, he clenches his ass; it’s what he does when he dreams about Dean playing with it. He likes how it feels when it’s clenched tight; he’d love to know how it feels stuffed full of more than his own fingers. And now, more than ever, Sam wants Dean; his desire has reached a peak that he’s not sure he can turn away from, or if even he wants to try.

Before he knows it, Dean is standing behind Sam’s chair, leaning on the back and looking over his shoulder, smelling the clean scent of his freshly-washed hair.

“Find anything?” His mouth is close to Sam’s ear.

A shiver runs through Sam’s body when Dean’s hot breath tests his resolve. “Not yet.” He leans back in the chair a bit more, tipping it towards his brother. The heat of Dean’s arm on his neck from where it lies across the crest of the chair makes him close his eyes with longing, longing to have that heat, Dean’s heat, all over his naked body.

“Me neither.” Dean lets a finger slide up the side of Sam’s collar until it touches his skin. It’s sinful how that tiny slip of flesh makes Dean’s erection burn and throb. He should be ashamed but he’s not; he’s even more aroused than he thought he’d be, his heart hammering in his chest and his breath ghosting over his little brother’s ear in quick shaky bursts.

Sam’s skin pebbles under Dean’s touch. He wants to spin around and claim Dean’s mouth, say ‘fuck it all’ and let himself have everything he’s ever wanted and then some.

“Dean.” Sam swallows dryly. 

“Huh?” Dean leans in closer, a little farther over Sam’s shoulder, until his chest is flush against him. He’s sure Sam can feel how fast his heart is beating and he doesn’t care; he wants to tip the chair back, get on top of his little brother’s gargantuan body and climb it to the top.

“I’m fucking horny.” Sam can’t hold back any longer. He’s on fire now; his cock is leaking and it hasn’t even been touched. The smell of Dean’s sweat mixed with his woodsy aftershave and his toxic hair gel has Sam so on edge that if he doesn’t do something soon, his cock is going to explode in his boxers in a wet sticky mess.

“Y—yeah.” Dean’s breathless. His gut just sank down three more levels at Sam’s words, his cock jerking and a bead of precome leaking out. His voice is unsteady but still has a confident swagger as he tries to hold it together. “What do you want me to do about it?” He presses his finger into Sam’s neck a little harder, as if trying to get a grip without being able to hold tight.

“I want…” Sam’s voice is full of need. He reaches up and takes Dean’s elbow and squeezes, clutches on for dear life so Dean can’t yank it away with the next confession. “…you to take care of me.” There, he said it. It’s all out in the open now, and there’s no turning back. His fingers dig a little bit tighter into Dean’s bare elbow.

“It’s about time you asked.” Dean wastes no time in climbing over the arm of the chair and straddling Sam’s thighs. He takes Sam’s face into his hands and holds it for a second as he studies his hazel eyes and perfect mouth. “I’ve waited for this…” He doesn’t finish, just dives in and kisses Sam’s lips, which are eager to respond in kind.

The kiss isn’t soft, or sweet, or delicate. It’s hard and passionate, Dean’s tongue swirling over Sam’s and then swiping over the rough ridges of the roof of Sam’s mouth, tasting every inch. He wants to devour Sam, wants to swallow him whole and then start all over again. 

Sam moans as he kisses back hungrily. It’s wet and sloppy and awkward, but also the most erotic kiss he’s ever experienced. His hands slide down to cup Dean’s ass, holding him tightly in place as Dean’s fingers thread through his hair and clutch the back of his head.

“Oh God,” Sam mumbles into the kiss. 

Dean pulls his mouth away and starts to move it down Sam’s jaw, licking along the hard edge, feeling the two-day stubble rubbing roughly against the tip of his tongue as it moves in waves over his brother’s salty skin. Sam arches his back and thrusts his hips forward into Dean’s crotch, their bulges pressing together through the thick denim layers, sending shockwaves up Dean’s spine.

“Mmmff,” Dean grunts, the sound muffled in the long expanse of Sam’s throat.

“Dean,” Sam whispers huskily as he tilts his head back to give Dean more room to suck and lick at his neck. “This…” He moans, his body on fire with more heat than he’s ever known. Dean’s touches are like hot irons, but they make him want them even more. “Just—” Sam’s barely able to think let alone verbally express a thought. 

“Mmmm,” Dean groans in response to Sam’s disjointed words. He pushes down and rotates his hips, grinding into Sam’s body, their hard cocks pressing more tightly together. Dean has never felt anything so wonderful, no matter how many times he’s had sex or jerked off in various ways with Sam’s clothing, and he definitely has never ever felt like he could catch fire from sheer desire. But with Sam it’s different; with Sam it’s more than everything he’s ever wanted. He pulls at Sam’s flannel shirt, pushing it off of his shoulders. He mouths around the soft sweat-damp collar to lave at the hollow of Sam’s throat. The salty pool of sweat paints Dean’s tongue; the taste is intoxicating and he can’t seem to get enough of it.

“Jesus,” Sam exhales, then swallows against Dean’s mouth as he pleasures the stem of his throat, licking the base and sucking at Sam’s Adam’s apple. Sam’s hands move upward to find the waistband of Dean’s jeans and then slip down inside of the gap, his fingers gliding through the groove as he makes his way down to the warm crevasse of Dean’s firm ass cheeks. His heart beats even faster; who knows how often he’s admired Dean’s ass, how often he’s dreamed of squeezing it and giving Dean all kinds of dirty pleasures—and now he can. Now he actually is.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean growls as his ass tightens and then relaxes with the touches. Sam’s long thin fingers tickle as they circle his pucker. “Yeah,” he exhales into Sam’s ear as he’s licking the shell and nipping at the lobe. “Gonna make me think that you’ve done this before.” 

“Only in my dreams,” Sam replies as he presses against the tight opening. His middle finger slips up and down over it, teasing. Sam’s heart is racing; his skin is sensitive and prickly. He’s covered in sweat and all he wants to do now is get naked so he can take full advantage of this situation. 

“Great dreams,” Dean murmurs seductively. He’s rocking his hips softly, pressing alternately against Sam’s finger and cock. 

“If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.” Sam gasps, his cock leaking more precome against his boxers. The way Dean’s body is moving against his is almost too intense. He wants to come, but he’s trying hard not to because if he does, he’ll feel like that fifteen-year-old boy who creamed his jeans when he had his cock petted for the first time. He doesn’t want Dean to be able to hold it over his head that he came in his pants the first time they made out. He pulls Dean down so he can’t move against him anymore. “God, want you so much, Dean,” he whispers, pressing harder on Dean’s entrance, not quite inside, just pushing against it with enough force to make Dean whimper when he does it.

“Want you too, Sammy.” Dean moves his hands down Sam’s flanks and pushes the flannel off of his biceps. “More nakedness, pronto,” he huffs, his body reacting to Sam’s fingers. He clenches his ass, presses harder into Sam and lets out a moan. “Gonna make me come with the way you’re using those fingers on me.” He grips Sam’s arms, digging his fingers in so hard that his blunt nails will leave half-moon marks in them. 

“Agreed,” Sam says through clenched teeth. “Too much clothing.” He pulls his hands out of Dean’s jeans and slides them under the cotton t-shirt, rucking it up over Dean’s back, palms gliding softly over the smooth flesh of his brother’s strong muscular back. He thinks about all of the freckles dotted there, all of those tiny enchanting marks that he wants to connect as he draws the constellations with his tongue. Panting, he pulls the shirt off of Dean’s shoulders and over his head, then runs his hands over those strong broad shoulders, the ones that Dean uses to carry all of the burdens of the world, the ones that he uses to carry him on when Sam can’t stand on his own. Sam’s eyes tear up as he thinks about how much he’s wanted Dean and for how long he’s fought it, but those days are over. Now he’s going to show him how he’s always wanted him, and in so many ways.

Dean finishes pulling his shirt off and tosses it on the floor. “Your turn,” he chuckles and sits up, yanking the flannel shirt all the way off of Sam’s arms and letting it hit the floor behind them. “Are you partial to this tee?” He’s running his fingers along the V of the neckline as he looks deep into Sam’s misty eyes. 

“Not really…?” 

Before Sam can finish his sentence Dean’s gripped the worn fabric in both hands and ripped it down the center to expose Sam’s muscular chest. “Now that’s what I like.” Dean leans in, his hands still holding the ragged edges of the shirt, and kisses along the deep line of Sam’s sternum, laving at the edge of the hard mound of his pectoral before sliding up and over to flick his tongue over one erect nipple. Sam arches his back and hisses at the feeling. Dean smiles around the stiff nub before closing his lips around it and sucking softly, humming at the feel of it in his mouth and how good it tastes on his tongue. 

“Fu—uck,” Sam groans, his hands clutching at Dean’s head, his fingers threading through the short hairs and scratching at his scalp with the intense pleasure. He’s never had his nipples sucked like this before, but damn, he _loves_ it. He wonders if Dean is a nipple guy when he’s with girls—but really, he doesn’t want to know. He’d rather just think that it’s _his_ nipples that drive his brother wild.

“Mmmm,” Dean hums, enjoying Sam’s reaction to having his nipple sucked and nipped. He switched to the other one, runs his front teeth over the pebbled crest and then swirls his tongue around the impossibly hard nub as Sam gasps and circles his hips, pressing hard against him. Sam’s hands cup the back of Dean’s head and neck, insistently pushing his head down, and Dean loves it all.

“Need more,” Sam begs, voice husky with strained desperation. He’s sliding his hands down Dean’s back again, tracing the groove between the shoulder blades, caressing Dean’s spine as he reaches the soft curve above his waistband. Sam’s fingers dip back down inside of the waistband and stroke the crest of Dean’s ass, moving lower and lower. Dean grunts and bites down on Sam’s nipple, eliciting a harsh moan from him as the sting and pleasure rocket through him. 

Dean sits up and pushes against Sam’s probing digits. “Wanna taste your dick, wanna know what you taste like.” He pinches and twists Sam’s nipple, grinning impishly at Sam’s response.

“Yes, please,” Sam heaves as he arches his back, fingers biting into the flesh of Dean’s ass. 

Beneath them, the back of the chair starts clicking and it drops back slightly. 

Neither of them even notices.

Dean wriggles back on Sam’s long thighs. He bites his lower lip as he undoes the brass buttons of Sam's jeans and then lays them open. He looks up into Sam’s eyes and smiles as he reaches in, fumbling to get a hold of Sam’s leaking-hard cock. The cotton is damp as he reaches through the fly and finds the slick head pressed against the waistband of his boxers. He pushes down the elastic and exposes the glistening head, licking his lips as he pulls Sam’s dick free from the cotton trap. For a minute he just holds it, marveling and measuring it for size, this time up close, for real. It’s long and thin, just the perfect size for his lanky-tall brother. Dean rubs his thumb through the sticky mess coating the head, caressing the tender slit and making Sam flinch and squeeze Dean’s shoulder, hissing.

“Christ.” Sam jerks his hips forward into Dean’s hand. “Feels so good,” he whimpers.

“There’ll be more.” Dean slowly strokes Sam’s cock, feeling the heat of it, the smooth stiff girth against his palm. It’s something he’s thought of so many times before, but he’d never realized it could actually feel this good. He shimmies himself back a bit more, until his ass is resting on the edge of Sam’s lap. He licks his lips to make them nice and moist before leaning forward and licking a wet line over the tip of Sam’s rosy cockhead. 

Sam moans, clutches the arms of the desk chair, and arches his back again. The chair makes a loud clicking noise as the back drops completely into the reclined position. Sam yelps with surprise, and Dean falls forward, his head slamming into Sam’s gut just as he leans forward to start sucking his brother’s cock in earnest. 

They both go completely still as Sam tries to will the chair to stop breaking, but it’s too late. The plastic supports crack and the chair plummets backward, sending Sam and Dean tumbling to the floor. 

“Shit!” Dean gasps, startled. He’s face-first in Sam’s crotch, Sam’s spit-and-precome-damp dick resting against his hairline.

Sam starts to snicker. He cranes his neck to look down at Dean, who’s looking up at him with a mixture of irritation and utter surprise. Laughing heartily, Sam reaches down and hauls Dean up and over his body. 

“We should have known a computer chair couldn’t contain our passion.” Sam strokes Dean’s cheek, then pulls him into a lingering kiss. “Keep going?” he murmurs against Dean’s lips.

“Let’s just hope the floor is safer,” Dean grumbles before kissing him back.

It doesn’t take long before Dean’s making his way down Sam’s body again, licking and kissing, leaving spit trails over his abdomen. He yanks Sam’s jeans down off of his hips, freeing his entire groin. He nips at Sam’s left hipbone, and then tongues his way along the deep groove leading down to his thick patch of pubic hair, which he nuzzles before working up the other side of Sam’s Adonis’s belt in reverse.

Sam wants to wiggle, giggle, pull Dean’s hair, scream out loud, beg him to stop, and maybe, just maybe, come. His cock jerks, spilling out more precome, and he can’t hold back vocal sounds of pleasure. He keens, groaning and mewling as he rocks his hips, trying to get more pressure and less soft tickling.

“Mmmm, more, please, harder—please—” Sam’s words are broken as he begs Dean.

“Your wish,” Dean mumbles into Sam’s pubic line. He wraps his hand around Sam’s hard-leaking dick again and strokes roughly several times. Sam lets out a howl as his cock jerks against Dean’s palm. “Hard enough?” Dean smirks and then licks across the head, gathering up the fresh clear pearls of precome squeezed out from his hard tugs.

“Y—e—s,” Sam stutters. He scrabbles at the floor, looking for something to hold onto as he tries to hold back his violent orgasm.

“Good.” Dean closes his lips over the slit and sucks lightly at it, trying to pull more precome out. He loves the taste of his brother, how musky and erotic his salty-bitter juices are. Dean’s own cock is straining inside of his jeans; he ruts against Sam’s knee as he straddles it, looking for relief from his tight balls and throbbing cock. His belly is swirling with the heat of their intense desire and he thinks he might come right in his pants from this whole experience. He ties to ignore it and swallows Sam’s cockhead, laving his tongue along the underside of the crest, something that he knows he loves and is sure Sam will too.

“F—f—fuck!” Sam can barely breathe as his brother does things to him that he’s never experienced before. He digs the fingernails of one hand into the stiff shag carpet and scratches at Dean’s scalp with the other as he tries to keep from shoving Dean’s head further down.

Dean takes the hint and engulfs Sam’s entire length, letting the head slide to the back of his throat before pausing to get used to the feeling of it. Sam groans and arches his back, hips and thighs shaking with tension, but when Dean finally pulls up, Sam lets out a loud mournful protest. Dean presses his free hand on Sam’s hip, holding him down as he slides up until his lips catch on the head and then dives back down again. His other fist curls around the base of Sam’s cock; his nose hits his own knuckles before he retreats again. 

He’s just got a good rhythm going, slurping and sucking and swirling his tongue up and down Sam’s cock, when Sam tenses and almost stops breathing, then lets out a strangled sound.

“Oh, shit,” Sam groans. His balls are tight, his body is bowed and tense, and he can’t hold back any longer. He digs his fingers into the back of Dean’s neck as an uncontrolled flood shoots into his brother’s mouth.

Dean gags a little at the surprise burst of come hitting the back of his throat and coating his tongue with its bitterness. He pulls off a little, so only the head of Sam’s cock is still in his mouth, and lets Sam finish. When Sam finally goes limp, it feels like his mouth is full of Sam’s jizz. Dean gives the head one final lick, then pulls off and swallows the mouthful.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” Sam breathlessly apologizes as he pets Dean’s hair. “I didn’t mean to, I just couldn’t hold back.” 

“It’s okay, Sammy.” Dean licks his lips, gathering the tiny dribble of orgasm left there, while mindlessly rutting against Sam’s leg. “You tasted so damn good.” 

“I want to taste you now.” Sam shifts his body as he kicks his jeans completely off. His cock is still rock hard, showing no signs of waning at this point, but he figures it’s just because he’s still so turned on. He sits up and lays Dean on his back, swapping their positions. He opens Dean’s jeans and pulls them down with his boxers, slides them all the way off and throws them next to his own. Then he kneels over Dean and straddles his thighs. He spits on his palm before wrapping his hand around Dean’s cock. “Damn, you sure have a nice thick dick,” Sam observes, licking his lips as he shucks his hand over Dean’s hard length. 

“Mmmm, thanks,” Dean murmurs. His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, his hips rotating with the rhythm of Sam’s big hand as it caresses and pleasures him. “Oh God,” he moans, eyes opening to roam over Sam’s long torso as his hands reach for Sam’s hips and grip them tightly. His thumbs find those deep soft groves along Sam’s sharp hipbones again and dig in, his fingertips pressing into the firm round globes of Sam’s ass. 

Sam catches his breath, the muscles in his ass flexing under Dean’s fingers. “That ass,” Dean groans. “I really want to take care of your ass.” He licks his lips and then sucks a deep breath in, making a hissing noise as Sam rubs his thumb pad over the slit of his cock. 

“Oh Jesus, Dean,” Sam pants, watching as Dean’s cock leaks out a large bread of precome that he smears around. He repositions himself so he can lean down and lick over the head, the clear sheen salty and very musky on his tongue. He dips the tip inside of the slit and flicks. Dean yelps, his hips bucking up and his hands flying to the back of Sam’s neck and shoulders.

“Yes!” Dean yells. His mind spins with the sensation. “Sammy, fuck, do that again.”

Sam mouths over the head, his lips kissing at the slit as he sucks. The way Dean is reacting has Sam holding down his brother’s hips so he doesn’t push up too hard. “Hold still,” Sam hums against the head of Dean’s dick, and he feels him start to relax against his palms.

“Shit,” Dean whispers into the dense air. “You—you sure you never sucked dick before, ‘cause _damn_.” Dean slides his fingers through the soft tendrils of Sam’s hair, palming his scalp as Sam dips his tongue into the slit again. His hips are undulating in a serpentine fashion with every swipe of Sam’s slick tongue. “Jesus,” he exhales. His eyes are shut so he can concentrate on not coming—just yet, anyway.

“First time, but I practiced a lot,” Sam stops to answer.

Dean tugs at his hair, a signal to start up again. “Less talking,” he urges as he thrusts softly through Sam’s loose hold and wonders what he means by practicing a lot. “Wait, huh?”

“Dildos,” Sam says quietly before wrapping his lips around the head of Dean’s cock and suckling at it. He takes a deep breath, then swallows it down as far as he can.

“Shit yeah…” Dean hisses at the thought of Sam sucking on big fat dildos while he fantasized about Dean’s cock. The image makes Dean’s cock jerk inside of Sam’s hot mouth as he’s taking it all. Dean’s cock swells even more, his balls rock solid and pulsing with the intense need to let loose.

The thick feeling of Dean filling Sam’s mouth has him rubbing his own dick again as he bobs up and down, his cheeks puffing as he goes down and sucking in as he comes back up. The sour taste of precome streaks his tongue as Dean seeps a steady stream over his tongue. He hums and slurps with pleasure, his own dick impossibly hard. He wants to come too, he thinks, wants to share the experience with his brother. 

“Want me to jack us off at the same time?” He looks into Dean’s lust-blown eyes, the pupil almost eclipsing the iris, just a thin rim of green glowing at the edges.

“Oh yeah.” Dean licks his lips and pulls Sam up for a kiss, tasting himself as he licks the roof of Sam’s mouth with wet sloppy hunger.

Sam shifts and climbs up Dean’s thighs. He settles over them and lines up their hard-ons, then wraps his big hand around them and starts to move it over them. Dean’s dick is still spit-slicked and slides easily against Sam’s. They’re both groaning as Sam’s hips rotate, rubbing their tight balls together and heightening the pleasure.

“Goddamn it, Sammy.” Dean clutches Sam’s forearms and holds on. “Gotta come,” he grunts as his cock starts to spew out thin strings of pearly come.

Sam keeps pumping, squeezing the heads and bucking his balls into Dean’s pulsing sacs. It doesn’t take long; Sam comes just as Dean finishes, his jizz-covered hand pumping over Dean’s spent cock as his own dick erupts with the pressure of his own orgasm.

Sam falls to the side and rolls off of Dean, his body heaving as he takes deep breaths, trying to recover. Dean immediately rolls on top of him and starts kissing him, wet and sloppy, rubbing his still-hard erection between Sam's splayed thighs. The breathless attack has Sam clutching Dean’s back and scratching with an almost feral lust.

“You seriously have a great dick,” Sam manages between desire-driven kisses. He feels like he could eat Dean up and it wouldn’t be enough even then. 

Dean just kisses Sam until he can’t stand the pulsing of his dick any longer and needs to be inside of Sam’s dusky heat. “Do we have lube?” he asks huskily as he sits up, still breathing hard from the orgasm. He can’t believe that his cock is still hard, that he can’t seem to get satisfied even after that mind-blowing orgasm.

“Of course.” Sam reaches into his duffel, still on the bed just above his head, pulls out a small tube of KY that he uses for jerking off, and hands it to Dean. “I’m dying to know what you’re gonna do with it.” He strokes lazily over his dick; it’s hard and aching even though he just came so hard that his balls felt like they were turning inside out. Part of him wonders at that, how he can still be so turned on even after coming twice, how Dean, too, can still be hard immediately after orgasming. 

But then Dean says, “Gonna fuck you like I promised,” and Sam forgets everything else.

Dean sits up and urges Sam to move. “Come on, roll over.” Sam obeys, turning over onto his belly. Dean smacks his ass and spreads his thick thighs. “Let me in,” he says, settling in between Sam’s legs. He smacks across Sam’s cheeks again just to watch them shake with the whack. A red handprint forms over the crack. “God, that looks good on your fine ass.” 

Sam chuckles. “It stings, but I like it.” He arches his back so his ass raises up. “Want me on my knees?” 

“Not yet.” Dean spreads Sam’s cheeks and licks his lips at the sight of the tight pucker between them. “Gonna make you feel so good.” He rubs his thumb over the wrinkled skin, watching the tiny center open slightly with the smear of his touch. 

Sam’s legs tighten with the touch and Dean knows it must feel good. He leans in to kiss the red mark over the crack, peppering over it with tiny soft kisses and then running his tongue through the part of Sam’s cheeks. He slips his tongue deeper into the crease until he feels it push through all the way, then swirls it over Sam’s twitching pucker. It’s winking and flexing with each pass of Dean’s tongue. Dean pushes the tip slightly inside of the ring, loving how Sam’s ass feels pressed to his face.

Dean opens the cheeks farther, exposing the thick seam from Sam’s pucker to his balls. He can’t resist licking along it, following it to the soft tight sac nestled between Sam’s thighs. He hums as Sam moans, thighs twitching, and sucks one of the sacs into his mouth before letting it pop out again. 

Sam groans and tries to raise his hips up off of the floor. “M—more,” he begs, and Dean digs his fingers deeper into his ass cheeks. It hurts but feels so good too. _Dean_ feels amazing, better than Sam ever thought he could.

Dean traces back up to Sam’s hole and circles the rim again, swirling and drooling over the tight ring. He slips his hand between Sam’s cheeks and slides his thumb over the wet entrance, pushing roughly. Sam lets out a long sigh so Dean pushes in a little harder, the tip of his thumb breaking through the ring; he spits down on it again and laves his tongue around the smooth edge surrounding his digit. Sam’s ass feels hungry the way it’s sucking him in. Dean bites his lower lip and watches as he gently fucks in and out with the very tip of his thumb. “Yeah Sammy, swallow my thumb,” he rasps, his own cock jerking. He wants to bury himself inside of the heat that is wrapped so beautifully around his finger. “Want you so bad, Sammy.”

“Want you inside of me,” Sam says breathlessly. He’s trying to stay relaxed but he wants to squeeze around Dean’s finger, wants to feel himself being stretched open and spread wide for his brother. “Want you to fuck me.”

“It’s coming.” Dean pulls out his thumb and squirts lube all over his fingers and Sam’s still-tight hole. He knows he has to prep him; he’s done this enough with girls to know you don’t just slam in. 

Still, he doesn’t hold back, doesn’t go slow, just slides his index finger right inside of Sam’s tightness. He moves in and out a few times before slipping his middle finger in alongside it, crooking and twisting and stretching that ring, feeling it loosening with each twist. 

“Please, Dean, please fill me up,” Sam begs, pushing into the motions. He clutches at the bedsheet above his head, half-pulling it down, looking for something to grip onto. His cock is even harder now, dripping more profusely as he grinds it against the rough carpet. “God,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Soon, baby boy, soon.” Dean adds his ring finger and slides it inside, Sam giving no resistance to the entry. He twists his fingers and crooks them as he pushes completely into the hilt; only his knuckles and his pinky finger stop him from fisting Sam. He pumps in and out, feeling Sam’s swollen prostate and pressing against it, eliciting a long slow breathy moan from his brother. He knows Sam is ready.

“On your knees,” he says as he pulls the fingers out with a pop. He slicks up his own cock with a generous amount of lube. “Need you to lean over the edge of the bed.” 

Sam obediently claws his way up onto the side of the bed. He leans over it, his thighs shaking as he waits for more.

“Good.” Dean smears more lube over Sam’s loosened hole and pushes even more inside. “Gotta make you good and slick.”

He tosses the lube on the floor and stands up. He lines up behind Sam and slides his wet dick between Sam’s spread cheeks. He slips over the hole and circles it, teasing Sam with the big head before pushing gently and then more forcefully until the ring swallows the head. 

“ _Fuck_!” Sam screams as Dean bottoms out inside of him. “Oh god, yes!” His hands come back and pull apart his ass cheeks, spreading them wide so that he opens up enough for Dean to fuck into him good and hard. It’s even better than he fantasized about and so much better than his own fingers or a toy. The hot heat of Dean’s dick forcing its way inside of him, filling him up, stretching him open and using him, is so much better than anything else, ever. 

“Sammy, oh Sammy oh Sammy…” Dean shivers with pleasure as he takes hold of Sam’s hips and stays completely still, letting Sam’s heat engulf his cock. He could come right now; the flexing heat of Sam’s ass and the way he is begging for more has his balls hard, but he really wants—no, _needs_ —to fuck his little brother’s ass first. He’s wanted this for so long.

Dean starts with shallow thrusts, his hips barely leaving Sam’s cheeks as he builds up momentum. Then his hips start to slam off of Sam’s ass, and Sam is rocking into these harder thrusts.

“Fuck me Dean, use me Dean, love you Dean…” Sam’s words are broken as he shoves back on Dean’s dick. Pleasure is rocketing up his spine; he’s now clutching the edges of the mattress for purchase. His chest rubs hard over the wrinkled sheets as his cock smacks into the blankets hanging off the side of the bed, but he still needs more. 

Dean thinks he heard Sam say he loves him. He wants to say it too, but he wants to be sure that Sam said it first. He grips Sam’s hips hard and jackhammers into Sam, lips mouthing the words he can’t say yet. _Love you Sammy_ …

He lets go of Sam’s hip to slide his hand forward and find Sam’s hard dick. He never loses pace as he wraps his hand around his brother’s hard cock and starts jerking it in time with his own cock slamming deep inside of Sam. 

Sam howls as he feels Dean start to jerk him off while still fucking him deep and hard. “Mmm, ahhh, yesssss!” His body can’t take all of this intensity anymore; he comes hard against Dean’s palm, string after string spilling over the blanket and Dean’s hand. Sam’s heart is racing, he’s covered in sweat, and he can’t hold himself up any longer. “Dean,” he calls out as he slumps onto the bed, his knees giving out and catching on the base. He feels Dean let go of his dick to hold him up.

“I got you,” Dean whispers as he leans over Sam’s back, his hips plunging his cock deep into Sam one last time; the shallow thrust and the way Sam is positioned make it a tighter squeeze. Dean moans as Sam’s twitching ass milks his cock for all it’s worth. He comes hard, filling Sam’s ass with thick creamy jizz. 

“F—u—ck,” he grunts, his balls pumping as he can’t stop coming. He’s not moving anymore, just spilling out copious amounts of come into his brother. It’s like every orgasm he’s ever had with Sam on his lips is filling his brother up now. “Sammy,” he groans as the final spurts of come ooze out. He pulls out, lets Sam fall against the bed and collapses beside him, his cock squeezing out a final blurb as it rests against his belly and softens. 

////////////

“Christ,” Dean pants breathlessly a few minutes later. He rubs the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, then looks over at Sam, who has a goofy grin across his face.

Sam’s absolutely limp beside Dean, his body sprawled out half-on, half-off the bed. His cock is finally limp as well and it’s the most satiated relief he’s felt all night. “That was…” He licks his lips and takes a deep relaxing breath. “Amazing.”

“Pretty damn fantastic,” Dean agrees. He reaches across and lightly strokes Sam’s shoulder with his finger. “That was something I never expected to happen.”

“Me either, but… it’s something I’ve wanted for a long time.” Sam glances over at Dean, hoping for approval, hoping for him to admit the same feelings.

“Me too.” Dean looks down and bites his lip, like the admission was shameful. But then he looks up again, smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And I’m really glad it finally did.” 

“Thank God, no more pretending, no more sneaking peeks or fantasizing about things I want to happen.” Sam wriggles himself closer and puts his head on Dean’s chest. 

“How long?” Dean wonders how long Sam’s been attracted to him, if it’s been as long as it has for him.

“Since I’ve wanted you?” Sam asks, looking up at Dean’s face.

“Yeah?” Dean plays with the long strands of Sam’s hair.

“Since I was fourteen. I used to watch you sleeping and have to jerk off in the bathroom. I was so lame.” Sam laughs. “How about you?”

“When you came back from Stanford to help me find Dad.” Dean closes his eyes. “Actually,” he takes a deep breath, “before that, when you left for Stanford. I realized that I missed you more than I should and for all of the wrong reasons.”

“What reasons?” Sam sits up and looks into Dean’s green eyes.

“Sam…” He doesn’t want to spill his guts, go all chick flick in the afterglow of what they just had.

“Come on, I wanna know.” Sam leans down and kisses Dean’s lips gently, trying to ply him with sweetness.

“Fine,” Dean mock-grumbles. “I missed your annoying body next to mine in bed, I missed your moppy hairs that you’d leave everywhere and how you questioned everything. I’d dream about you, I’d see you when I’d masturbate. It was more bothersome than having you around. Happy?” Dean laughs and kisses Sam back.

“I knew you loved me,” Sam grins excitedly.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Of course I love you.” It’s a relief to say it out loud and not keep it bottled up anymore.

Sam smiles softly and stretches out his legs, accidentally kicking the remains of the computer chair. He looks up at the desk, a look of total realization dawning on his face. “The computer went off while we were…” He hauls himself up and rushes to the laptop, staggering a little as his legs threaten to buckle. The red flashing alert signal shows him that the app has found a possible match to the strange vial of dust. “We have a match.”

Dean drags himself up too and sits on the bed. “Okay, what is it?”

Sam reads the page. “Says here that it’s a kind of pollen using fairy dust, meant to bring forward someone’s deepest hidden desires. You put it on your skin or the skin of a person that you want to reveal their secret desires… sounds about right.” His eyes skim down further. “Side effect to not following through with your urges is to combust internally, or spontaneously combust. The pollen creates an internal heat, a flame that burns until it’s quelled as you act on the pent-up desire. That explains our three victims. They must have tried to suppress their desires.” Sam looks over at Dean and smiles. “See, told you this could have been dangerous.”

“Seems like we were affected by it when I opened the vial.” Dean looks at his fingers and grins mischievously. “Explains why it lasted so damn long too. Magically-induced boners.” He snickers. “Good thing we didn’t fight it, huh?”

Sam turns back to the bed and pounces on Dean. “No—well, yes, but the good thing is that now we know. And every time after this, it’s all us knowingly acting on our not-secret desires.” He kisses Dean and pushes him back against the pillows, knocking his duffel to the ground.

“Not sure if I can…” Dean says as Sam straddles him.

“Are you sure?” Sam grins as he starts to get hard again and so does Dean. “Looks like maybe it’s still working… and we don’t want to combust, do we?” 

“Hell no, recovery time be damned.” Dean pulls Sam down against his chest and kisses him hard.

“Round two… no wait, three…” Sam laughs.

The end


End file.
